Gabriel Ricard celebrates six years of Captain Canada’s Movie Rodeo with reviews of The Incredibles 2 and Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, as well as films from Kurosawa and Burt Reynolds.
They said they didn’t want me to die here either – at least not before we got our cannolis and tiramisu. I assured them that I meant Boston and not the restaurant. But Boston was the only place I’d ever lived, I say, and I loved it, but I didn’t want to die without having lived somewhere else. I tell them heading south and west.
Paul Rudd is a being composed of charisma and genial good humor, and that’s never more apparent then when he shares the screen with two of the most pissy and uninteresting characters in all of the Marvel Cinematic Universe: Hank Pym, played by Michael Douglas, and Hope van Dyne, played by Evangeline Lilly. But even Rudd’s considerable charm isn’t enough to distract from the fact that the only people worth paying attention to: Hannah John-Kamen’s Ghost and Michelle Pfeiffer’s Janet van Dyne, get the least screen time. I’d rather have spent two hours with Randall Park’s put-upon FBI agent.
Gotti isn’t a good movie, but I urge people to see it. It's rare to see something this incompetent in theaters, starring an actor as well-known as John Travolta. Travolta's credit inexplicably appears over footage of the real Gotti, forcing the audience to think "Well, they don't really look alike", before they've had a chance to get invested. The rest of the film offers scenes that have no connection to those before or after them. Worse, you'd have to be an expert on the infamous mob boss to understand half of what is going on. Travolta tries his best, though.
You've probably heard people talk up Hannah Gadsby's Nanette, and if you're like me you sorta shrugged it off for a bit, but then smartened up and watched it and sobbed into a blanket for like, twenty five minutes. Hannah takes the act of a comedian turning their pain into humor and stomps it into the ground. I can't do this any justice -- it's something everyone should experience.
There have been many on-screen depictions of PTSD over the last few years, but none as well realized as Leave No Trace, because writer/director Debra Granik sees--correctly--the disorder as not just something that changes the perceptions of those afflicted, but completely upends the family dynamic. Ben Foster doesn’t rely on the now-familiar actor’s tropes of PTSD, but instead carries a weight that we see his daughter, newcomer Thomasin McKenzie in a brilliant performance, forced to bear. Their subtle work makes the ending, which you should have tissues on hand for, the only possible route either character can take.
Don’t watch Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom. I mean it. There’s nothing snarky or bitter about this advice. Don’t see the movie. Because if you see the movie, they will make more movies just like it. Movies in which not only are characters and plot jettisoned in favor of spectacle but the spectacle itself is flat, meaningless. Hollow. And you, yes YOU reading this review, have the power to stop all of that. Just don’t see it. That’s all. Make tomorrow a better day by making it a day in which you do not watch Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom.
100 words can’t contain my own love for Fred Rogers, nor can ninety minutes sum up the most extraordinary, and unlikely, of American lives. Morgan Neville’s documentary is at its best when focusing on footage of Rogers himself, from his stirring address to Congress in 1969 to his post-9/11 PSAs. The film stops just shy of hagiography, and moves too neatly past Rogers’ reticence to address gay rights, but leaves the audience with a grace note that gently confronts each of us with blessings we’d forgotten we’d received—blessings like the life and work of Fred Rogers himself.
Gabriel Ricard interviews Jonathan Penton of Unlikely Stories on the 20th anniversary of Unlikely Stories.
If you’re interested in understanding Pope Francis the man you’ll be better served by any of the surprising number of biographical documentaries available on Amazon Prime. Wenders isn’t making a personal history, though he does go to great lengths to link the former Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio to his namesake, Francis of Assisi. The film, really, is a platform for the genial pontiff to call for mercy combined with action, though its scattershot approach leaves little time for nuance, which seems to be what the Pope is suggesting our chaotic times need most.
Mr. Butterchips returns to battle conspiracies and paranoia in the latest strip from Alex Schumacher!
Hereditary seems to have a huge fan base on twitter, and I'm trying very hard to figure out what movie these people saw. Taking cues from films like Rosemary's Baby and with camera tracking that establishes the hell out of every shot before getting to the story, Hereditary is two hours and six minutes of uneasy dread and creepy vague ideas that, for me, left far more questions than satisfying conclusions. And someone give Ann Dowd a role where she's not involved in some nefarious religious bullshit for God's sake. Can't she play, like, a kindly coworker?
Paul Schrader presents us with a rare gift: a film that is equally serious about its material and its storytelling craft. Grappling with his faith, Rev. Toller’s (Ethan Hawke) existence becomes unhinged when the husband of a parishioner (Amanda Seyfried) commits suicide. Buoyed by strong performances—including Cedric the Entertainer as the head of an evangelical megachurch—First Reformed is Schrader’s strongest treatise on faith in film. Alternately introspective, shocking, and frank, it still retains a glimmer of hope. The film reminds us that doubt plays a certain role in faith and that even in the midst of despair, grace reveals itself.
Can someone love a serial killer? On a sequestered island community, a young woman (Jessie Buckley) with a dark past and a domineering mother (Geraldine James) falls for a mysterious man (Johnny Flynn) suspected of committing a series of child murders. While Beast is cleverly written and directed with gorgeous cinematography, its intricacies weigh it down. But with actors so committed to their craft, you nearly forget these things as the narrative unveils its multitude of lurid surprises. When the film ends, you’ll feel like your body was exhumed from damp earth and is in need of a cold shower.
Sean Woodard explores the religious themes of film in his new series Finding the Sacred Among the Profane. First up: The Strangers franchise.
PODCASTOrdinary GraceSusan Pierce
An interview with Susan Pierce, English professor at Los Angeles Valley College, about the hollowing effect of advertising and consumer culture, as well as Tibetan Buddhist loving-kindness practice and the power of giving.
But then again, I have big hands.
So I go for the little things,
so I can love a lot of things.
& isn't that the trouble with boys
like us we keep our love trapped in
our mouths everything was full
to bursting your left hand my right
hand blissfully glutted with lambs
He loved the stars: he would speak endlessly about Orion the Hunter, Hercules, Corona Borealis, Sagittarius. If we were outside at night he would point out their locations and recite the myths and stories surrounding the flickering of those magical lights in the sky.